


Machiavellian Pursuits

by RunningOutsideTheLines



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Courtship, Ghosts, Happy Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Platonic Relationships, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:33:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28837101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningOutsideTheLines/pseuds/RunningOutsideTheLines
Summary: Harry is reluctant to let Ron set him up on a date, while both are concerned about what Fred and George are up to.This is a fun little plot that came to me last year and has been sitting in a notebook for months.  It's completely written, I'm just cleaning up the chapters before posting with my bestest beta in the world.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Erin_Riwen as always for her wonderful beta, constant support and unending friendship.

The clack of wheels over the tracks wove memories thick in the air as the Hogwarts Express sped them over the long miles towards the old castle once again.

“Are you glad we did this?” Ron asked, his familiar voice merging so seamlessly with the voices of the past that it took a moment for Harry to realize he had actually spoken.

“What?” Harry turned from the window to face his first and best friend across the compartment.

“You’re smiling.”

“Oh,” Harry said and felt his smile grow wider as he settled back against the cushions. “Yeah, this is good. I’m remembering. Riding into Hogwarts was my favorite part of the year.”

“Slower than just Flooing directly to McGonagall's office.”

“Better,” Harry said firmly. “Thank you for setting this up.” As a professional Quidditch player, it was not often Harry got the chance to return to his first home. That he got to do so now was a treat he was not taking for granted. When the news came that there was not one, but two students at Hogwarts this year possibly good enough to play at the professional level, Harry had jumped at the chance to be the one to check them out.

Ron settled back against his own seat cushions, taking up so much more room than he had as a child. His hair was the same, a bright red that Harry could pick out even amongst Ron’s siblings. So much else had changed since the two of them had last sat on this train.

The past hung thick in Harry’s mind until Ron broke through the second time with a less welcome question. “So how is single life treating you?”

Harry groaned. “No.”

“No dating?” Ron willfully misunderstood. “That’s too bad, but as it happens …”

Harry groaned louder. “Ron, no.”

“Come on Harry, give me a chance here.”

“The last time you tried setting me up it was because your mother could not accept mine and Ginny’s break up. She blackmailed …”

“Bribed,” Ron corrected, a bit sheepish.

“...bribed,” Harry acknowledged, “you into setting the two of us up on a ‘blind date’. An unexpected dinner with your ex is not a blind date, Ron.”

“It sounded like the two of you had a nice time.”

“Only after we both figured out neither one of us wanted to get back together. Before that it was awkward as fuck. You, my friend, have lost the privilege of setting me up on any more dates.”

“I know the thing with Ginny could have gone better…”

“By not happening at all.” It was Harry’s turn to interrupt.

“... but I really think if you just give this a chance…”

Harry was done with this conversation. “How are things going with Pansy?”

“Pansy is the best girlfriend I’ve ever had,” Ron said, distracted by the abrupt change in topic. Both men winced. “No offence to Hermione,” he was quick to add. 

“She won’t hear it from me.”

Ron and Hermione’s break up was something the three of them had gotten past, as long as no one brought it up.

“Speaking of girlfriends and dating,” Ron said, obviously trying to regain control of the conversation.

“I could give you some of the gory details of the men I’ve picked up lately,” Harry threatened.

Usually one mention of Harry’s bisexual tendencies was enough to have Ron desperately trying to change the subject.

“You’re not serious about any of them, are you?” 

That wasn’t the response Harry had expected. “No,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes at his friend.

“Good.” Ron had a pleased smile on his face that dropped as he registered Harry’s suspicious expression.

“You’re trying to set me up with a guy,” Harry exclaimed. He might not have gone into the Aurors but that did not mean he was slow at putting puzzle pieces together.

“Yes,” Ron agreed. “Pansy says he is really nice these days.”

Harry stared at Ron dumbfounded as the rest of the pieces slotted together. “You want to set me up with Draco Malfoy!”

Ron blinked back at Harry, and then nodded.

“We are not talking about this,” Harry said firmly.

“Oh come on, you can’t still be hung up on who he was when we were kids.”

“No.”

“But Pansy says …”

“No.” The steel resolve in Harry’s voice got through to his friend. Ron sighed and nodded his defeat.

The ensuing silence was awkward as Ron figited and Harry tried to come up with a new topic of conversation. “What are Fred and George up to these days?”

“I try really hard to stay out of whatever Fred and George are up to whenever possible.”

“Not that I disagree with that sentiment, but isn’t that a little hard when the three of you run a business together?”

Ron shrugged. “There is enough distance between the London branch of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and Hogsmeade that I tend to miss most of the fall out.”

“McGonagall is going to kill them one of these days.” Hogwarts tended to be right in the middle of the blast radius of whatever Fred and George were up to and the new Headmistress had more than one new grey hair to show for it. “Well, George anyway.” The two friends shared a grin. “Is he still dating the new flying instructor?” Harry asked and then winced at how he had unintentionally brought the conversation back around to dating.

Ron’s expression turned hopeful. Harry shook his head and Ron sighed before responding. “Angelina Johnson, yes. That witch is a saint for putting up with both of the twins. They all seem happy with the arrangement though. Except McGonagall, of course. Every time I see her, she asks if I would be willing to switch locations with my brothers.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t envy her the job. Fred, George and a bunch of bored students has never been a good combination.”

“They are all too creative for their own good,” Ron agreed. “But the profits keep me in a nice living. I can’t complain.”

“I ran into Neville the other day and he mentioned working on a project with the twins. I have to admit I was surprised. Neville’s speciality these days is in healing herbology. I can’t think of two people who need a staff doctor more than your brothers but that doesn’t seem like the kind of thing they would be interested in.”

“They had that incident last year with the Quidditch end of season fireworks where we almost lost George. Remember that?”

Harry nodded. “If that didn’t get them interested in the healing arts nothing will. Wasn’t Peeves involved in that somehow?”

Ron groaned. “The last thing those two need is help from Peeves.”

“No joke.” They locked eyes and then broke out into very unmanly giggles. 

In that moment, they were children. This was one of the joys of a friendship that had developed over years. Something would happen and they would be back in time, sharing memories without words and feeling content in each other's company.

It took a while to settle again. Ron finally picked up the thread of their conversation. “I hear the friendship between the three of them has cooled off since then and I have to say I’m grateful. 

“You don’t know what they’re up to with Neville then?”

“Not any of the details,” Ron shook his head and pursed his lip. “They are definitely up to something though.”

Ron knew something, he could tell. Harry grinned and wiggled a bit forward in his seat. Talking about Ron’s brothers was almost always fun and rarely serious. 

Ron rolled his eyes but his grin gave him away. He slid forward in his own seat and leaned forward until their heads were almost touching. He lowered his voice to almost a whisper and for a moment they were two small boys again, sharing secrets. “You know I try to stay out of Fred and George’s plotting.

Harry nodded, eager to hear what came next, trying to keep his face serious and not giggle.

‘A few weeks back I visited the Hogsmeade branch of WWW to pick up a shipment of …” Ron paused, trying to remember but Harry just waved him on. “Right, doesn’t matter. Anyway, while I was there I noticed this statue of a cat.”

Harry gave Ron a confused look and his friend nodded in agreement. “I know, right? Not really Fred and George’s thing. It wasn’t for sale, it didn’t seem to go with anything, like decorations and shit. It was very life-like, as though the creator had worked to make it look like an actual cat. It felt like the fur should be soft rather than stone, each hair individually sculpted. Really not the type of thing I would expect Fred and George to have. So a few days later, I was back and the statue was gone. But there was this cat wandering around the office, like a live one, rubbing up against my leg and leaving hair on my dress slacks.”

“Hu?” Harry leaned back against his seat again, his face contemplative. “They are playing with Petrification? Why?”

“No idea. That stuff is not exactly funny. Not that Fred and George can’t make anything funny, but I can’t think of a use for it.” Both of them exchanged a look, remembering the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk. “But maybe that’s what Neville is helping them with.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Harry shook his head. “Neville said something about healing and dead tissue. Not resurrection or bringing things back to life, just tissue.”

“What does that have to do with Petrification?” Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. ‘No idea. Neville said the potion was a personal interest project. He was just looking for something that would have saved…” His voice tapered off. Even after all this time he struggled to talk about it.

“Dumbledore,” Ron said quietly. “I’m sorry mate.”

Harry shrugged and looked back out the window. His conversation with Neville had ended with the same awkward sadness. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why Longbottom was working on this. It was too late and Dumbledore was dead, but if someone had thought to work on something that would reanimate dead tissue before he had died then maybe… They couldn’t change the past, but maybe the cure the old Headmaster had so desperately needed could help someone in the future.

Respectful silence hung between them for a while.

After a bit Harry cleared his throat and asked with a forced smile, “Fred and George still out selling you two to one?”

Ron took the bait, complaining wildly about his brothers’ wild antics and their continually increasing popularity. The smiles became real as the two friends laughed and enjoyed each other’s company the rest of the way to Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry changes his mind and Draco is suspicious of more that just Harry.

Draco Malfoy was breathtaking. Harry stumbled to a stop coming through the doors into the Great Hall and nearly got run over by a group of energetic students. He slid out of the way to catch his breath, only to lose it again as he watched Malfoy casually make his way down the staircase. His long legs moved to a quick, lively beat, his professor robes flared out behind him with a drama not seen since Snape had walked these halls. While the late advisor had an air of menace, Malfoy’s long lines made the look elegant. It was something about the way he moved, Harry decided. Gravity seemed to support him like a lover.

Ron greeted Malfoy casually. It wasn’t a surprise to Harry. His best friend's relationship with Pansy had led to Ron and Draco to put aside old grievances and become better acquainted. The easy intimacy that had sprung up between them was a bit disconcerting to Harry, especially here of all places where so much of the animosity in their past had occurred.

Ron asked something, but the noise in the Grand Hall had increased and Harry was too far away to hear. Harry drifted closer. Malfoy’s posture remained casual and easy, comfortable in Ron’s presence. Malfoy waved an elegant hand off in a direction and the red head nodded his thanks.

“Harry, you coming?” Ron tossed over his shoulder, already on the move.

“I’ll catch up,” Harry called back.

Bright grey eyes met his and a quiver of energy raced over Harry’s skin. Malfoy looked away and with the tightening of his shoulders and the straightening of his spine the easiness of his stance was gone. Harry felt a twinge of loss, regretting that it was his presence that had pushed Malfoy back into a defensive posture. He gathered his wits about him and moved forward.

“Malfoy, how has Hogwarts been treating you?” It was inane small talk, but it got the blond to look at him again.

“Being the head of Slytherin house has its perks.” The professor's tone was polite but his body was posed for flight.

“The youngest ever to hold that position, I hear.”

Malfoy flashed Harry a bit of a grin, but it did not reach his eyes. “Not as flashy as being the youngest Seeker in a century, but we do what we can.”

Malfoy was going to leave, shifting away from Harry, casual and yet persistent. He opened his mouth to speak again, no doubt to excuse himself from the conversation. 

Harry wanted to reach out to him, to catch one slender hand and not let go. He stumbleed a few steps closer, feeling awkward and uncoordinated. “Who do you think will win the game tonight?” He rushed the delivery, cutting off his companion before he could speak.

The emotion that flashed across Malfoy’s face was painfully familiar. Anger. What had Harry said?

Malfoy turned back, squaring his shoulders. The way his old rival prepared himself for battle was as known to Harry as his own. “This is not like when you were here, Potter,” Malfoy hissed. “Slythern has already beaten Gryffindor once this year.”

Harry doesn’t want Malfoy to leave, but he doesn’t want to fight either, not anymore. “Playing against you were always the closest games we had,” Harry offered back, quiet and respectful. He lowers his head and looks up at him from under his lashes.

The tone and submissive stance worked. Malfoy’s posture eased out of combat mode and his brow creased in confusion. “Well, I guess we will see.” He shifted a bit in discomfort.

Before Harry can figure out how to respond, the professor's eyes catch on something just over Harry’s shoulder. “Merlin save us,” Malfoy breathed in horror.

Harry turned his head as Fred floated by. Sometimes it still caught him off guard, that Fred was dead. The Weasley ghost was a pale, washed-out version of his embodied self but his expression had not changed. He wore the overly innocent look of mischief in progress. It was such a common expression for both Fred and George that Harry did not understand what caused Malfoys reaction.

Fred nodded as he passed and the two of them nodded back. When the ghost is out of earshot, Harry took advantage of the situation to slide closer and lowered his voice. “Doesn’t Fred normally come with George? I mean, isn’t George here quite a bit to visit… what’s her name … the new flying instructor?”

“Hmm,” Malfoy nodded. He was still staring off after the ghost. “Angelina Johnson, yes.” He sounded distracted. When Malfoy returned his gaze to Harry, he could tell the professor's attention was still on the ghost.

Harry was decidedly grumpy about this. He was self aware enough to know that he liked to be the center of attention of those who mattered to him. Draco Malfoy obviously now fit into that category. This revelation solidified the conviction that he had made a mistake in telling Ron he did not want to date Draco. Ron would not let him change his mind without a heavy dose of good natured harassment, but it would be worth it. He needed his friend to help him figure out the best way to approach Malfoy, as he was not doing well on his own.

One conversation at a time, however. He needed to see what progress he could make against Draco’s defenses now before he started planning what happened next.

Hoping to inspire a little intimacy, Harry shifted even closer and lowered his voice. “Do you think Fred is up to something?”

“Always,” was Draco’s extremely intelligent response. His eyes darted back in the direction Fred had disappeared.

Harry moved even closer, slow and careful, until there was only a breath of air separating them. “What was it about Fred that caught your attention?”

“Fred and George are always together. Fred doesn’t haunt a location, like the ghosts of Hogwarts. He haunts his brother. Where George goes Fred always follows.”

Harry smiled. The beautiful blond had lowered his voice to match Harry’s. The two of them were practically whispering to each other. The topic of conversation was nothing but an excuse. Harry hesitated. On the one hand, he did not want to push his luck and yet he felt an aching pull to see what he could get away with. With a deep slow breath, he tilted his head until he was practically whispering in one pale, shapely ear. He let his voice rumble through his chest. “What do you think it means, the fact that they are not together?”

Draco’s head whipped around, his eyes wide, visibly startled at seeing Harry so close. “You .. He … they’re … up to something.”

Harry let his smile widen into something a bit more predatory.

“He … Fred alone … always means trouble,” Draco stuttered. 

A jolt of pleasure shot through Harry when the beautiful man in front of him glanced down from his eyes to his mouth and back. Harry leaned forward, working his way closer to those tempting lips. It was getting difficult to remember what they were talking about but he was desperate to keep the conversation going, to draw this moment out as long as he could. “Fred could be visiting Peeves. Aren’t they friends?”

Draco closed his eyes and for a moment Harry was convinced he was going to bridge the remaining distance. Instead he shook his head as though trying to throw off a spell. “Not anymore,” he said with finality. Malfoy stepped back, visibly pulling himself together. When he returned his eyes to Harry’s he was composed. “There was an unfortunate incident at Quidditch last year. Fireworks timers went off early, nearly killing George. Peeve’s doing, of course. Fred saved his brother by diverting the fire around him, but all three are now banned from the games.”

It was painful to watch Malfoy establish the distance between them again, but Harry did not fight it. The professor's reaction had confirmed that the physical attraction was mutual. That was enough for now. Harry watched Malfoy take another step back and he cast around in his mind for a way to keep the conversation going. “I heard you had your own encounter with Peeves.”

“He was messing with the ingredients in the potions lab.” Malfoy nodded but he was still inching backward.

“More explosions?” Harry held his ground, sad as he watched Malfoy continue to pull away.

“Yes. I believe that McGonagall has banned him from half the castle, not that it does much good. Peeve’s pranks continue. Fred and George have been rather quiet lately, a nice change, I can assure you. But if they are starting up again … I should warn our Headmistress.”

Malfoy was already turning to go before the last words were out of his mouth. 

There was nothing Harry could think of to stop him. “I’ll see you at the game,” he called after him. Malfoy waved once and was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ron watch Quidditch.

The Gryffindor / Slytherin game was fantastic. It had been a while since Harry had the pleasure of just sitting and watching. As a professional Quidditch player, Harry had a much greater appreciation for the strategy of the game and the mates he currently played with outclassed anything he had achieved as a student at Hogwarts. But the raw energy the students displayed on the field was infectious and the excitement of the crowd addicting.

The players were not lacking in technical skills either. Harry was here to evaluate two students in particular and had arranged his visit to occur on a day both would be on the field. The Gryffindor Beater was good, flashy and crowd pleasing in a way that would be an asset on the professional field. He did have a couple of challenges though, the most glaring of which was the way he sat his broom. 

The fundamental techniques of how to hold and sit on a broom was something that most amateurs would dismiss as unimportant. Playing at this level, the player was compensating well with no more than an occasional wobble when under pressure. In the intense strain of a professional game, however, the Beater would find himself off his broom.

The other player Harry was here to evaluate was the Slytherin Keeper and she was perfect. Despite her lack of flash and pizzazz, Harry was having a hard time keeping his eyes off her. She was always in position, reading the players in a way that was almost psychic, both her teammates and the opposition. More than one shot was blocked that Harry had thought safely in. Playing closer attention, Harry figured out that the Keeper was baiting the other team, tempting them into taking the shots she wanted them to take. It was such a Slytherin way to play and Harry admired the strategy. He had come a long way from the boy who saw anything not Gryffindor approved as cheating.

It was a close game but despite scoring no other points, in the end the Gryffindors won due to a lucky catch by their Seeker. However far he had come, Harry could not help smiling in nostalgia at the win.

“Have you seen Malfoy?” Harry asked Ron. The two of them were battling their way out of the stands with the rest of the student body.

“You should get used to calling him Draco.” Ron had been thrilled at Harry’s abrupt change of heart over the young head of Slytherin.

“When he asks me to.” The two men exchanged smiles. He had said ‘when’ not ‘if’ because he was settled on making this happen. Whatever was causing Malfoy’s obvious reluctance, Harry was determined to overcome it. If Ron and Malfoy could be friends, surely the two of them could be something more.

“I’m going to track down Fred and George.” They were finally out of the stands and Ron was heading back to the castle with the rest of the spectators.

“I need to go chat with a couple of players,” Harry said, waving him off.

Harry and Ron had sat in the Gryffindor risers for old times sake and the team was close by. A new round of cheering went up when he approached and again when he congratulated them on their win. He gave the Seeker a friendly pat and then pulled the Beater he had been sent to evaluate aside.

The poor boy was in tears by the time Harry finished what he needed to say. “But you were a Gryffindor,” he sniffed. “They said you would…” The young man trailed off.

Harry wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Professional Quidditch isn’t about house alliances or even really team alliances, although I would appreciate it if you did not spread that little fact around. As a young player, you can get traded around quite a bit. Your opponents today could be your teammates tomorrow. It’s the skills that you bring to the table that are most important. To put you on a professional field like you are currently would be irresponsible. Even the best players get hurt sometimes but with the way you sit your broom it’s inevitable. 

The young man’s head was down and tears were dripping silently off his chin.

“Look at me,” Harry said. He gently tilted the wet chin up until he could see sad blue eyes. “I’m not saying you’ll never play professionally, just that you have some work to do first. Fixing your seat on the broom at this stage won’t be easy, but it’s possible. What’s worse is that trying to fix it is going to screw everything else up while you adjust. If playing at Hogwarts is enough for you, then leave it alone and just enjoy playing. However, if playing professionally is important to you, then do fix this and fight your way back.” Harry squeezed his shoulders. “Alright?”

The Beater nodded.

“Alright?” Harry asked again, louder, squeezing his shoulders again.

“Yes sir,” the young man said with a watery smile.

“Good. Now go enjoy your celebration.” 

Harry started off towards the Slytherin team but paused and looked back when the Beater called his name. “Are you going to recruit Chloe?”

“The Slytherin Keeper?” Harry asked. He hated to answer but he wasn’t going to lie. Someone should have taught this Gryffindor not to ask questions he did not want the answer to. “Yes, I am.”

The young face crumpled once again but Harry was proud to see how, a moment later, he firmed his jaw and got himself under control. “Good,” the brave young man said and then walked away.

It was hard to see someone else getting something that you wanted desperately. Harry Potter knew that feeling better than most. He would have to keep an eye on that kid. A young man capable of staring heartbreak in the face and still maintaining his dignity might also have the strength to fix his seat on his broom after years of doing it wrong. Yes, Harry would definitely need to keep an eye out. Smiling, Harry resumed his trek towards the Slytherin team.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry eavesdrops and doesn't get caught.

McGonagall caught up with Harry after the game. Chatting with the Headmistress was always pleasant. She took him up to her office where he greeted Dumbledore’s portrait and settled down in his favorite chair. They talked about the game, Fred and George and her favorite students. 

No matter how he tried to lead into it, his old Head of House refused to get drawn into a conversation about Draco Malfoy. “I’m going to let you learn about Professor Malfoy from the man himself.” She hid a smile behind her tea cup.

“He seems a bit reluctant,” Harry tried again.

“He’ll come around. In fact, you might find the next time you talk to him that his reluctant attitude has already begun to thaw.”

Harry pressed, but the cunning witch refused to say more.

He left the Headmistress’s office frustrated and headed off to find Ron. Coming to the end of yet another empty corridor he heard voices.

“Would you let him know that … well…” Harry recognized Malfoys voice and froze.

“Just tell him yourself, mate,” Ron replied.

Should he go? Harry wondered. He should probably go, said Hermione’s voice in his head. It was rude to eavesdrop. 

He didn’t go. Instead Harry found himself sneaking up to the corner where the hall inexplicably changed direction and peered around the corner. Ron had his head poked in a classroom half way down the next length of castle wall, probably looking for his brothers. Malfoy stood next to him, tense and fidgeting. 

“I handled things badly,” Malfoy said, sounding frustrated.

They were talking about him! Harry almost crowed with delight and pulled his head back before they saw him. He really should leave, but the thought doesn’t stop him from settling into a comfortable position as he listened.

Malfoy continued in disjointed stops and starts as he struggled to explain. “...on the stairs … I pushed him away … and then I ran. I’m sure he thinks I’m not interested.” There was a long pause. “Did he tell you what he was going to do?”

Their voices started to get closer and Harry backed slowly away from the corner. He was desperate to hear but really did not want to get caught.

“Do?” asked Ron.

“With the Quidditch players.”

“No mate. When Harry gets going on Quidditch these days it's all technical jargon. Ruins the game if you ask me. I prefer to sit in the stands and cheer.”

Harry wanted to sigh in frustration at his friend's lack of interest in the finer points of the game. The sound of Malfoy sighing for him had him shoving a hand into his mouth to suppress a chuckle. Harry could almost see the long pale fingers rub at the line of tension just beneath his white/gold bangs. “Miss Chloe Rookheart, the Slytherin Keeper, found me after the game. She came to ask for time away from school to attend the try-outs with Harry’s team. He offered to sponsor her.”

“That’s great,” Ron said, obviously confused. Whatever point Malfoy was trying to make was going over his head and Harry’s too for that matter.

Malfoy continued. “I have also been informed that the Gryffindor player was informed he wasn’t ready for the major leagues.”

“Poor kid.” The confusion was still evident.

“Are you being purposefully obtuse?” Malfoy demanded.

“Nope,” Ron said, calm as ever. “I honestly have no idea what you’re on about.”

Another long silence had Harry wanting to move back to take another look around the corner. 

He was just about to move when Malfoy’s voice picked up closer than ever and he stumbled back a few steps. “I suppose I find Potter's lack of house pride surprising.”

For the first time Ron’s tone became firm, almost angry. “You mean house prejudice.”

“Yes, fine.”

“Why would…” Ron started to rant but Malfoy cut him off.

“I have been fighting prejudice against Slytherin house since I took the position as Potions Master. My personal contributions to the war have done nothing but made the existing bad feeling even more intense. To find Harry Potter, who has more reason than most to have negative feelings, displaying none towards me or towards my students is a surprise.”

There was a tense silence before Malfoy added in a much quieter tone, “... maybe it shouldn’t have been.” 

“I told you,” Ron said, still sounding upset.

“Yes, I know.”

“I told you,” Ron says again, louder.

“Seeing for myself has proven more effective in convincing me of the truthfulness of your words. I apologize for not accepting your assurances. Now help me. How do I fix this?”

The voices were already too close. Harry was going to get caught if he didn’t leave right now. Hating to leave, Harry forced himself to sneak quietly away, a smile stretched wide across his face.

That Malfoy had struggled to accept Harry, that he had expected prejudice when there was none and that he had rejected Harry because of it, all of that probably should bother him. It didn’t. He had too much experience with prejudice himself not to understand what Draco faced. Instead Harry was caught up in the fact that his old rival had admitted he was wrong. Malfoy’s apology to Ron still rang in his ears. 

Rather than putting him off, the whole incident had made Harry more convinced than ever that he wanted a relationship with Draco Malfoy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is there for the end.

Harry was still smiling when he entered the dining hall and there was a definite spring in his step. He felt a thousand feet tall and on top of the world. Caught up in his own head, Harry’s feet were on autopilot. Long years of habit had him heading towards the Gryffindor table. He was actually looking for a spot among the students before the realization hit him that this was not where he should be sitting. Harry veered off and headed up toward the guest area at the head table next to where the Professors sit.

Ron was not there yet and neither was his favorite Slytherin so Harry dropped himself into a spot with lots of room. As he waited, Harry made it a point to catch the eye and give a smile to every student he knew. He wasn’t aware of Ron’s presence until he dropped down onto the bench beside him. He turned, opening his mouth to speak when someone took the seat on his other side. Malfoy looked as uncomfortable as he had ever seen him as he glanced up at Harry’s face from beneath his fringe.

“Hi,” Harry breathed, excited and happy, feeling like if he didn’t grip the table hard he would float away.

“Hello.”

“It was a good game.” Harry nearly groaned aloud. Of course he started off the conversation talking about Quidditch. 

Luckily the one time Slytherin Seeker did not seem to mind. Malfoy smiled at Harry in a way that softened his features and lit up his eyes. “Yes,” he agreed. “Ms. Rockheart was raving about your invitation to try out for the team.”

“I didn’t think Slytherins ever did anything as undignified as raving,” Harry teased.

“Occasionally we make exceptions.”

“She’s good.” Harry clenched his hands to keep himself from reaching out to touch the wisps of fine hair that seemed to be floating in a halo around that handsome face. It was too soon for that, he admonished himself.

“I’ve always thought so.” Malfoy's eyes were tracing Harry’s face and he basked in the attention. He wondered how long it was going to take before they could start saying what they were actually thinking. It was not like either of them were being subtle about their interest.

Bright grey eyes found his again. Something about Malfoy’s face firmed and he shifted about until he was facing Harry fully. Maybe this was it? Harry shifted as well. Their chests were inches apart and the air between them crackled. Draco took a deep breath to speak.

It was at that moment the doors to the dining hall burst open. Every head turned to see Peeves tumble in, careening out of control and moving way too fast with Fred Weasley right on his heels. The two ghosts shot across the room with students screaming and scrambling to get out of the way. Everyone at the head table, including Harry, Ron and Draco were on their feet, wands in hand.

Harry did not see George until he moved, jumping out in front of the Peeves. Whatever he held carefully covered is revealed for an instant to Peeves’ wide eyes. The ghost hit the floor with a loud crash, sliding forward for several feet before the momentum finally gave out. He was petrified.

“Yes!” Fred cheered. The twins gave each other a high five. One hand passed through the other but neither seemed to mind.

“Mr. Weasley, what is the meaning of this!?” McGonagall demanded. She had developed the booming voice of all Headmasters and Mistresses.

George had the grace to look sheepish even as he started in on their defense.. “You said we couldn’t prank the students during mealtimes but you didn’t say anything about the other inhabitants of the castle.”

“Like that will save any of them from the wrath to come.” Fred added with a smirk.

“Petrifying someone is not a prank!” McGonagall screeched. She storms towards the twins.

Fred backed away. “It’s not like we killed him.”

“He’s already dead,” George adds.

The shock of the moment had passed and the sound of snickering could be heard. Harry pressed his lips together tightly not to join in. The expression on Peeve’s frozen face was priceless. Looking down at the ghost wasn’t the horror that Harry had experienced when he had seen Hermione in a similar state. Despite McGonagall's protests this was indeed a prank, one with a well-known cure, and perpetrated on someone renowned for harassing everyone in the castle as often as occasion would permit.

“Petrifying someone is not a prank,” McGonagal said again, her tone weaker than before. She was looking down at Peeves and Harry was sure her lips were twitching.

Ron wasn’t even bothering to contain his snickers. Malfoy raised a distinguished eyebrow when Harry looked his way, his straight face too bland to be real. Harry had to bite his lips not to lose himself in rather unmanly giggles.

“Give me that.” McGonagall attempted to relieve George of whatever he was carrying as though he were an unruly student. Fred and George exchanged a look and then a shrug.

“Be careful,” warned George. He handed over his burden, a carefully wrapped something about the size of a pumpkin. “Don’t unwrap it.”

“What is it?”

“Basilisk eye,” Fred said proudly.

“This could kill someone!”

“Naw,” George protested and then Fred corrected, “well yeah, someone alive maybe. But not a ghost. It just petrifies ghosts.”

“Where on earth…?” McGonagall held it at arm's length.

“Chamber of Secrets,” George answered her, reaching to take it back.

“That snake has been nothing but bones for years.” McGonagall stepped away, dodging George’s grab for the eye.

“Neville developed a tissue regeneration potion,” Fred explained. 

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. A lot of the peculiarities they had been discussing on the train suddenly made sense.

“Said something about trying to save Dumbledore,” George added.

“Didn’t have the heart to tell him the Headmaster was already dead,” Fred concluded.

“Normally I would expect Neville Longbottom to keep the two of you in check.” McGonagall sighed.

“It’s not like we were dumb enough to tell him what we were doing,” Fred puffed out his chest proudly. 

“Yeah, he would never have helped us.” George said.

McGonagall narrowed her eyes at both of them. “You two are not getting this back. Hagrid, come help Mr. Weasley here transport Peeves to the infirmary.”

Fred and George exchanged a look. “Too soon,” they both concluded, as if their reference to the late Headmaster was the problem. Then they exchanged a number of incomprehensible hand gestures. McGonagall was already heading out of the dining hall at full speed and Fred took off after her. Harry had the suspicion that this was not the last they would hear of that eye.

With McGonagall gone, the snickers and giggles grew in volume as Peeves was lifted and carried from the hall. There was also a smattering of applause as George passed and he took a moment at the doors to bow to the crowd. Cheers broke out and a few people stomped their feet in approval. Harry allowed himself a smile.

This story would race through the wizarding world like fiendfyre. Harry would not have wished this on the ghost but had enough experience with Peeves over the years not to allow himself a bit of joy in Fred and George’s revenge. Even more, he was glad he was here to see the moment for himself.

With George, Peeves and Hagrid gone, the room settled back into the business of eating.

“Everyone is going to be excited for the reprieve from Peeves and his pranks,” Ron said. It was no doubt the subject everyone in the room was now discussing.

“How long will it take to brew the antidote?” Harry asked Malfoy.

“Several weeks,” the potions master admitted. “We don’t stock fully-grown Mandrake root in school for obvious reasons. I doubt we will find any for sale at a reasonable price either.”

“Don’t break the bank on Peeves account,” Ron leaned around Harry to contribute. “He can wait.”

The three men exchanged a smile and then focused on their food.

“Draco,” Harry said after a moment to gather his courage. “May I call you Draco?”

“Of course, Harry.” Draco replied. 

It was ridiculous how happy it made him to hear his name from Draco’s lips. Shifting a bit nervously in his chair, Harry pushed on. “Was there something you were going to say… before all of this?”

There was a flash of panic in Draco’s eyes. “Yes.” His voice came out a bit high and Draco cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes, there was.” He put down his silverware carefully and then slowly turned. “I know it is a bit early … I certainly would not want you to feel under any obligation. Not that you would. There is no reason…”

“Draco,” Harry interrupted with a smile. “Just ask.”

Draco’s expression was heartbreakingly hopeful. “Would you be my date for the Yule ball?”

Harry’s first thought was to sweep Draco up in his arms and never let him go. The second, an over-eager yes was also forced back down his throat. He was a grown man. He WOULD be composed about this. “If I say yes, can I still take you out before that?”

The smile that spread on Draco’s face was every bit as ridiculous as Harry’s. “Yes.” So much for either of them being composed.

“Then I would love to.” Harry leaned forward and carefully pressed his forehead to Draco’s.

Behind them Ron said, “I get to be the one to tell Pansy.”

“And your mother.” Harry added and then laughed at the horror he can feel coming off his best friend. 

Draco smiled back at Harry and all was right with the world.


End file.
